Saturday, January 09, 2010
It's a sleepy kind of day. Gary's downtown at a Met opera simulcast; I stayed home t work on various projects. So far I've knkt a bit more on Marin's second sock and practiced the fiddle for an hour. Today I finally managed to sound out one of the themes from Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, the first piece of classical music (other than the mandatory Nutcracker) that enchanted me as a child.
When I was ten or twelve, one of my father's legal clients came over for dinner, listened to me enthusing about Scheherazade and Prokofiev's Lieutenant Kije, and turned up his nose. I liked those two pieces because when I listened to them, I could see stories unfoling in my head. But they were lowbrow compositions, the client informed me, as my father and stepmother exchanged glances; I should work on forming more sophisticated tastes. He drew up a list of "better" music -- I don't remember now what was on it -- and I dutifully wrote down his suggestions.
The minute he left, my father harummphed and said, "He's a snob, Suz. You go right ahead and keep liking what you like."
Sounding out the tune today brought all that back. These last few days, I've been thinking a lot about Dad in general. A year ago, we'd just learned that he'd been randomized to the control group in the Stanford study, dashing our hopes for a new heart valve for him. Looking back on it, I think a new valve wouldn't have mattered, or would only have maintained him in relative misery. But a year ago, we were sad, and shortly to embark on a hectic few weeks of Fran deciding to leave, followed by Dad's move into assisted living. In the middle of all that, my mother was in the hospital, too. It was a crazy time, and I'm very glad to be past it.
Oh, speaking of hearts, my test yesterday went fine. I don't have results yet, but suspect everything will be normal. Afterwards, Gary and I went to see Avatar; we even, on the recommendation of friends, sprang for the 3D version. It's a visually stunning film, and we both enjoyed it, even though the story's completely derivative and predictable (Gary commented that Kevin Costner should sue for the rip-off of Dances With Wolves). Even though I saw all the plot developments coming five miles away, I didn't care, because it was so much fun to watch.
I wonder if my father's client would have appreciated my favorite music more in new, startling interpretations. A jazz or bluegrass Scheherazade? Has anyone done that?
In other news, the periodontal putty's still in place. Yay!